I’ve always kept turtles. Even when I was a fetus and incapable of even basic motor skills I have kept turtles. This may sound daft to you, even strange or possibly odd, but let me explain: You see, I am the Turtle Keeper. You lowly mortals may have heard of me. I’m not immortal, I am too mortal. But lowly? I am not lowly. I am The Turtle Keeper.
Formerly the Turtle Rider. But then I accidentally killed an entire batch of turtles. For you see, turtles are small and I am an adult man of considerable girth. But that’s something you mortals may not understand. I’m not immortal, but I am more tal. More tal than you ever will be. I am The Turtle Keeper.
Once, I kept a single turtle under my wing (or, “arm”) for thirty days, never letting it free, never letting it see the light of the glorious sun above us. It died. Everyone knows it died. But dwelling on such things is like letting a candle burn so low that it is no longer a candle, but a puddle of wax. Dwelling is like keeping a lizard in your armpit for a month until it dies. It’s stupid, and pointless. Nothing I do is pointless. I am the Turtle Keeper. Lizards are pointless.
Like my arch nemesis, The Lizard Haver. Not even an original name does he have. And that guy has maybe five lizards. I’ve got like sixteen turtles. And he thinks that he does a better job than me? I laugh, but I also cry. Cry for his stupidity. I am the Turtle Keeper, and I am incapable of tears. You must cry for me.
Of course, The Lizard Haver doesn’t show his face much around these parts anymore. Or should I say lizard parts. His lizards are in parts because I broke into his house while he was at work and cut his lizards up with the wrong side of a hammer. A mere hammer? Not even sharpened. Where are your hard shells to protect you little lizards? Guess you should have been turtles. Hey, where’s the bathroom?
I forgot to mention this in the last paragraph, but I am still the Turtle Keeper. My shell may be made of ‘card board’, but these syllables put together mean nothing to the turtles. And nothing to me. What is a “card”? I can only speculate. And a “board”? Who knows. These things are but humble mysteries to I, The Turtle Keeper. One day, I will find the pefect scientist who will indulge me in my greatest human desire. To become a turtle. I’m realistic about it, I know I’ll probably only be able to grow a turtle like shell and beak but keep my human like posture and physique. But I am the Turtle Keeper, not necessarily an actual turtle, completely. But pretty close. Not some weird bullshit. Lizard Haver thinks he’s actually a lizard, probably. You should see this stupid lizard suit he wears sometimes, the tail looks so stupid, it has this string that attaches to his head so that it doesn’t drag along the ground. How many lizards have a string holding their tails up? Um, oh yeah. What was that number? It’s so low I can’t even remember… oh yeah… zero.
Have you seen the film Bicentennial Man, with Robin Williams? Okay, that’s what I’m talking about in regards to my own personal turtle transformation. Actually, a lot of that movie corresponds with my life, only you have to change some words around. Like instead of “robot”, I am the “Turtle Keeper.” Robin Williams plays the robot in the movie, but in my life the Turtle Keeper is played by “myself”. The families the robot takes care of are sort of like the turtles I keep every day. And at the end of the “movie” (my life) I don’t get turned into a “human” but a “turtle” possibly. Everything’s a possibility, really.
Lizard Haver’s wife is pretty hot. But she’s stupid. She’s actually my ex-girlfriend. Yeah, I did her, then slid her. Down to the next willing man who’d put up with her bullshit. It came down to her or the turtles. Simple choice really. Also she kept telling me to “lose weight”. Umm, turtles are naturally bulky. Most of it will be transferred to shell DNA when I have my procedure anyway, so like, whatever, Sandra. No one owns me. I am the Turtle Keeper.
I keep the turtles. But no one keeps me.
Epilogue: I am in jail now.